


Mettle

by NekoAisu



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Begging, Desperation, M/M, Magic, Omorashi, Watersports, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 01:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/NekoAisu
Summary: With three years of experience under his belt, Noctis should know better than to start working on a new brew before using the restroom. Potions are finicky things where even the slightest break to dash upstairs and take a quick piss can net absolutely terrible results (like the time in year one where he ended up with what was supposed to be a new batch of elixirs bubbling black and tar-like over the edges of his neglected caudron). It’s really not all that harsh of Ignis, a full-fledged witch and Noctis’s current teacher, to tell him to wait it out.He’s not expecting his charge to break down and beg.





	Mettle

**Author's Note:**

> hi im kiri and i never update on time. please take this sorta-finished noctober ignoct smut as reparation for the wait

At the age of twenty three, Noctis Lucis Caelum is fairly convinced he knows full well how to care for himself. The witch he’s apprenticing for, Ignis, has one hundred percent confidence that Noctis is deluded in regards to his self awareness. 

 

Case in point: his apprentice’s incessant whining about having forgotten to use the restroom. Again.

 

If it was a less common mistake, Ignis would have no problem taking over for him and allowing him that break. However, the same thing had happened last week, and thrice the month before. He decides it’s best to discipline his pupil in a way he’ll actually remember─by making him wait. 

 

He knows it’s cruel of him to ask something of his pupil (“Pass me the coeurl whiskers, would you, Noct?”) when it’s most of the way across the worktable. Under normal circumstances, Noctis would just grumble at him and obey. What he gets for reaching for the ingredient is a sharp jolt to the bladder, already aching even though he had just been sitting and stirring and pointedly  _ ignoring  _ the growing need to pee, when the lip of the tabletop digs into him. Ignis deigns it unnecessary to comment on the growing red to his apprentice's cheeks as a result, nor the hitch in his breathing. 

 

Noctis, on the other hand, is trying desperately for patience. He knows Ignis couldn’t quite reach what he needed from the assorted ingredients, but he wishes his tutor had just put down his knife and gotten them himself. He can try and ignore it when he sits really still, thighs pressed together and lips pursed like losing tension would mean losing control over his bladder, but moving is a new form of torture. When he leans forward, he can feel how full he is. The weight sitting low and ominous a bare warning of what’s to come. 

 

Ten minutes and two ingredients later, he’s starting to feel some pain. It’s dull and almost achey, spreading out from where he’s dropped a hand to rest against his stomach. The need to pee had grown in urgency nearly to the point of rivalling the time he’d managed to set his sleeve on fire and had to run to the bathroom to put it out in full. 

 

His internal debate on exactly how much longer Ignis would make him wait is halted by a curious, “Are you alright, Noct?”

 

“I have to go, Iggy,” he says, tacking on the most contrite expression he can manage for better chances of getting his way. 

 

“As I said earlier, you must wait until the batch is done before attending to yourself,” Ignis reminds. “I  _ did  _ tell you to make sure you used the restroom before we began, did I not?”

 

Noctis wilts, eyes sliding from Ignis’s face down to the floor and its worn wood planking. “You did.” He doesn’t apologize, though. 

 

Ignis keeps his eyes on his work, carefully slicing dried beetle wings into slivers before dumping them into a growing pile of meticulously diced up paraphernalia. The paste in his mortar is a mix of at least three different spices and a few different mineral powders, metallic and fragrant even with Noctis’s brew bubbling away. 

 

They sit in silence for another few minutes before he speaks up, eyeing Noctis from above his glasses in a move Prompto (his best friend and fellow coven-member) had dubbed “condescendingly sexy.” His voice is soft, but not hesitant, when he offers, “If you can wait until I’m finished with preparations, I can take over for you.”

 

The sigh Noctis lets out is nearly euphoric. “I can-I mean, I’d rather go now, but-”

 

“Noctis?”

 

He shuts his mouth with a click, stirring the potion in his pot faster than strictly necessary to make up for faltering. “Sorry. I  _ really  _ have to pee though.” He shifts, crossing one leg over the other in hopes that it will somehow alleviate the immediate need to relieve himself. It just makes it worse, but then it’s nigh unbearable. “Specs, I gotta  _ go.” _

 

“You will  _ wait,” _ Ignis corrects and it’s nearly like the nail in Noctis’s coffin that sends him spiraling into desperation. He doesn’t even look up from his work. 

 

Noctis shifts again. He shivers, forcing his arm to keep moving, lest the potion spoil, but doesn’t dare lose focus on holding himself back from letting go. There’s an incessant fear nagging at him, the one that likes to freak him out over accidental social mishaps, singing joyously about how angry Ignis would be with him if he pees himself inside the workshop─well, pees himself  _ at all.  _ It’s that voice that makes his resolve crumple along with his restraint to keep from begging. 

 

“Ignis, Iggy,  _ please  _ give me a break so I can pee,” he breathes, mortified by how whiny he sounds when asking for the privilege. 

 

Ignis ignores him, focused on completing what he set out to do. 

 

Noctis winces when a sharp pain lances outward from his bladder, gripping his wooden spoon tighter. He waits for Ignis to relent, to turn to him and allow him the most basic thing as a five minute break to use the restroom. 

 

It doesn’t happen. 

 

He tries again. “I _ really  _ have to go, Ignis.”

 

Nothing. 

 

“I’m begging you, Specs.”

 

Ignis’s brows arch in a delicate curve before he glances over, taking in Noctis’s incessant fidgeting without so much a flicker of emotion in his eyes. “Are you really?”

 

Noctis swallows, throat suddenly dry. “Yeah?”

 

“You don’t sound too sure about that, Noct,” Ignis points out. He puts down his knife and turns to his apprentice. There’s no mercy in his voice when he clarifies, “I see no point in halting my own plans in account of oversight on yours unless you’ve _ truly _ reflected on your  mistakes.”

 

“I’m sorry, Ignis. I’m really being sincere, I  _ swear.  _ I just  _ really have to go,  _ so if you’ll let me just-”

 

Ignis cuts him off with a sharp, _ “Noctis.” _

 

The silence lasts all of ten seconds before Noctis is squirming again, nearly bouncing off his chair, in an effort to find a position that will help his need abate. “Iggy, if you don’t hurry it up, I’ll end up going _ right here  _ and I don’t think either of us want that.”

 

“You seem quite sure  _ I  _ stand to benefit less from your mistake,” Ignis states, matter of fact. He’s still staring intently at Noctis, but his hands have fallen to his lap to twine together in a show of slight anxiety. “The only thing that can convince me of your sincerity is if you allow me to hold you to your word. You said you were begging me. Let me hear it.”

 

“Hear what,” Noctis asks, “my apology again?”

 

Ignis smiles and it’s a sharp, predatory thing. “That would be a lovely addition, yes, but what I  _ need  _ to hear from you is how you’ll beg. I’ve never heard of the next in line to lead the coven ever begging. I wonder if your father would approve of you doing so.”

 

It’s a low blow to point out Noctis’s ascension under normal circumstances, but now Ignis can see how it makes his pupils grow a bit wider and breath come quicker. His apprentice has shoved a hand between his thighs to press at his dick through his pants like it will somehow keep him from further embarrassing himself, but seems to be getting off more than preventing him from urinating on himself. It’s with great pleasure that he orders, “Beg me, Noctis.”

 

Mouth dropping open as if in a gasp, Noctis obeys. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for leaving it open-ended. if you'd like a continuation, lemme know and i'll get on it after NaNo finishes kicking my ass
> 
> comments, kudos, and concrit are all very much welcomed <3
> 
> hmu at:  
> tumblr - kiriami-sama  
> twitter - FlamingAceKiri  
> discord - Nekoaisu#7099


End file.
